One Shot: Drunken Interview with Valkorion
by DuskStarDragon
Summary: *Spoiler* This story may contain spoilers for those that haven't played through certain chapters in the Online MMO game Star Wars: The Old Republic. Take a peek inside if you want to read more.


*Spoilers*

Hello everyone! This is just a one shot story about Star Wars: The Old Republic the game. This takes place just after the Events of Knights of the Fallen Empire. If you haven't played up to or read anything regards these events, there could be spoilers. So… yeah… spoilers. Anyway this just a story about my Smuggler, Jarazi'Dah and her struggles with the new responsibilities of a position she never asked for. Let alone for what lurks inside her mind. She seeks a moment of peace out in space and at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey.

Warning: This might get a bit long… yeah… it's long.

 **Drunken Interview with Valkorion**

 **One Shot Story**

"It's a rather odd thing… don't you think? It's strange how Corellian whiskey always seems to taste better in space. When you're sitting in a dark, dank bar with the lowest of lowest, it taste burns and leaves the throat parched for more… I swear that the bartenders put something in there that makes you want to drink more. Shouldn't have to do that though. A good Corellian whiskey… any whiskey for a matter of fact, should go down smooth with a lick of sweet and a slight smoke… not like the smoke from a starking wire… more like a fire that you build out in the middle of the woods… I don't know why those are the best and smell so intoxicating… you're out it the middle of nowhere and you can smell the earth… the actually earth… it just fills you and your nose… the moss and leaves… the dirt and rocks… everything… is that… is that something like what Jedi… Sith… Force Users… feel…? It just fills you entirely… all your senses… just everything that exist… fills you… everything that ever is… ever was… what could be... Does it smell like the earth or fire… does it change depending on what… force it is? Are there different kinds of forces… or is it one thing…? I never understood that whole thing about the Force. Every Jedi that I've ever meet as always said to me "May the Force be with you"... by their believes everyone and everything has the Force inside them… so isn't it with me already? It's kind of… redundant… I've got the Force with me… I just can't use it… or sense it… or smell it… or feel it… or anything involved with it… Where was I going with this…? Oh yeah… Corellian whiskey taste better in space than it does in a bar…"

"Are you always this… philosophical… when you're drunk?"

"I'm not drunk… not yet. It takes more than a few shots of Corellian whiskey to get me drunk. That might take the whole bottle to do that… I don't know… I'll have to wait until I get to the bottom."

"And how will you know when you are drunk?"

"The moment I stop seeing and hearing you…," she hissed as she glared across the way.

"No amount of fermented liquid will ever make me go away. You and I…"

"I know, I know… are one. Where I go, you go. I've heard it all before. You seem to like reminding me that I can never be rid of you. I would settle for one moment knowing that I knew you weren't lurking inside my head. Even if that means I have to drink myself into a delusion that you don't exist."

"Believe me when I say that I don't have to lurk about in your mind. It's quite spacious."

"Was that your attempt at a joke?"

"It wasn't so much a… joke… as it was an observation."

"Hmph… I can't tell if you more or less funny the more I drink… of course I didn't think you were all that funny to begin with."

"I've always found you amusing myself. I recall the first time Servant One told me that a lone smuggler and her… ragtag crew of barbaric ruffians…"

"DON'T YOU DARE SPEAK ABOUT MY CREW LIKE THAT!"

"Did I hit a nerve?" he smirked slightly in amusement.

He more than a nerve… a sobering moment of clarity. No one spoke ill of her crew… her family… her only family… the only ones that ever accepted her for… who… she… was… they never looked at her and question her loyalty… never once… because… of…

"I've have always wondered how the Galaxy outside of Sith Empire treats Purebloods like yourself," he probed into her mind, "I can see that it is poor… I can see how they treated you with suspicion and even ire. How many times were you arrested on suspicion of being a spy or a true Sith? Five? Ten? Twenty? No...," he laughed.

"Fifty three times…," she finished for him, "I was detained fifty three times on suspicion of being a Sith spy. Had my right arm broken seven times and my left one twice… my jaw has never been the same…," she ran her fingers across her lower jaw.

It hurt still. She would never forget that one day in that spaceport on Balmorra. They all just…

"Stared at me… like I was some sort disgusting pile of Bantha dung… worst than Bantha dung," she ran her hand down her face.

Her fingers caught the sharp bone ridges that protruded from her face. She was always was conscious of them. She couldn't remember a time when she wasn't aware of their presence… one of the marks that branded her as… as…

"A lesser being?" he read her thoughts.

"Isn't that what you consider me?" she shot him smug smirk as she brought the bottle to her lips.

He gave a small chuckle, "I once thought you were… a minor annoyance. Someone that would spread a bit of chaos… a footnote at best… but no. You left your mark on the galaxy. Not just an outlaw hero only out for credits. I can see into your heart."

"And what's inside?" she asked half heartedly.

She really didn't care what he had to say. She would just let him talk. Hopely the whiskey would start to kick in and she could have a moment of peace in her mind.

She wasn't the type to drink away her problems. She's seen what that does to people. She was never like that.

Times had changed though… she wasn't sure if she could change with them.

She had been always adaptable.

"So many things hide in your heart," he spoke loudly to get her attention, "There are dark places there, as well as light. You dance along the lines that define the Light and Dark. You are somewhere in the grey. Not many people can find such balance. Feeding your ego by playing hero as you make a quick profit. Pretending to be for the cause of people, but still working with the worst of the worst of the underworld. You are the charismatic hero, but the one of the underworld's top bosses. You are an enigma and a contradiction."

"So in other words," she smirked once more, "You don't know who I am," she snorted as took a swig of whiskey.

She rolled the liquid over her tongue and let it trickle down her throat. There was the smoke with a sweetness she could never quite put her finger on. Possibly Bakura cloudberry? Or maybe Ithorian forrolow berry? Both were sweet and had a bit of tang. A few other liquors used the berries to add the sweetness, but they were pretty detectable once they hit the tongue. This was a different kind of sweetness. Maybe it wasn't even a fruit she was tasting.

"If you are done," he gave her annoyed glance, "It is hard to say what is truly in your heart when you do not know what is there. You go between a staunch defender of the downtrodden to someone who would gladly take a fist full of credits to buy your silence. As I said," he chuckled smuggly, "you are a contradiction. You know so little about yourself, but you are so sure about who and what you are. Tell me… who are you?"

That was an interesting question. She hadn't had that question asked of her in a long time, nor had she thought about it in a long time. It was one of those universal questions that couldn't be answered quickly or truthfully. Anyone that can say exactly who they were and what they were about without much thought either doesn't know themselves or are lying to themselves. The latter being the case most of the time. She was usually was part of that group.

"I'll answer if you answer," she bartered with him.

His face didn't change. Not even for a moment. There was thought going on inside his mind. Possibly debating on whether or not to indulge her curiosity. Maybe he would… maybe he wouldn't…

"I suppose that I could satisfy your curiosity…," he finally answered.

"Then I suppose that you're not going to be honest," she sat down to get comfortable.

"I have not lied to you since I have decided to follow you," he commented.

"You can lie more by what you don't say than by what you say," she smirked as she once again raised the bottle to her lips.

She paused though. She drunk directly from the before, but it didn't feel right. This was whiskey. It deserved to be poured and sipped to appreciate the flavor. This was a good whiskey. She was going to enjoy the rocks glass from the Dejarik table, she gently poured a shot's worth of whiskey into it. Setting down the bottle, she brought the glass up to her nose to get a good sniff. It smelled like it tasted. Bold and rich.

She was going to enjoy it as long as she could.

"Ladies first," he wanted her to proceed with her answer.

"Didn't know you thought of me as a lady," she snorted, "Besides, age before beauty," she offered him.

He didn't seem amused by her comment, nor willing to speak. He was just stared at her with his unblinking grey eyes. Though she couldn't tell if he was looking at her or through her. It was unsettling either way. She never liked it when he stared at her. There was an emptiness to his eyes. But there was also a lustful glint.

She thought it was best to avoid his stare. Sipping the whiskey, she thought about the question before she answered.

"You'll have to forgive me," she swirled the whiskey around the glass, "if I just start talking… without making much sense… I'm just working through my thoughts. It's not an easy question to answer. I'm not sure where to start… I guess the best is to start simple… and go from there," she took in a deep breath and released it, "First of all I am a Freighter Pilot. I am a Spacer… by some I'm a Cloudhead," she chuckled at herself.

She would never forget that time on Coruscant with that brother and sister team. Sure it was an insult, but she could still laugh at it.

"I love to wander. I love the stars and I love experiencing new things. So I guess you can say that I'm the curious type. I love attention, but you know that," she smirked towards him, "I don't mind though if I just quietly exit from a heroic deed… That would make me a bit mysterious. Leaving without being notice… just walking away back into the dark shadows… or my ship… or the sunset… that seems a bit more fitting," she thought that sounded better.

"The mysterious individual often is hiding something… they disappear into the shadows before questions can be asked… You're not entirely honest with the Alliance… you're not honest with yourself…," she could feel him poking around in her mind, "Why do you like to be mysterious? What are you hiding from everyone…? From yourself?"

She wagged her finger at him as she clicked her tongue, "I don't think so. I answered. It's your turn now."

"You have not fully answered the question," he pointed out.

"I've answered enough to get started," she smirked, "and I need a moment to ponder a bit more. I think it's your turn for awhile."

He didn't want to argue with her, "I can accommodate you. But give me a moment to gather my thoughts."

She nodded. She was rather curious to hear what he thought of himself. It also was an opportunity to pour herself another glass of whiskey. Though, she wondered if she should hold off a bit just to learn a bit more about her metal invader. She was in a dangerous game of metal Sabacc and she needed every advantage she could. Looking down at the bottle, she paused before pouring but decided it was better to appear as impaired. That would be her advantage.

"Well?" she asked as she took a false sip.

"I am a complicated individual," he responded.

"That's somewhere to start," she pointed out.

"I suppose…," he thought for a moment before he continued, "I am complicated. I love the stars. I have known love and know what it is like to lose it. I find that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never known love at all."

"Why does that sound familiar?" she pondered out loud.

He chose to ignore her, "I have seen more in my lifetime than any other would hope to see. I know more than any other being could hope to know. I am power. That is who I am."

"Nope," she didn't accept his answer, "I know all this already. I'm afraid you're going to have to do better than that."

"You told me nothing that I already don't know," he commented.

She agreed, "Well yeah… but what don't you know about me? I think we've been over this before. You're inside my mind. You can just poke around and know whatever you want to know. I don't seem to have the same luxury."

"You've been tougher spots," he mused, "You've never let a disadvantage hinder you before. Have you?" he started to fade as did the rec room.

"Are we really doing this tonight?" she let out a sigh.

She knew where they were going.

That one night at the that pirate cantina where her life took a big turn… another one anyway. Her first time as a stand alone Captain. She was just taking her first steps by herself. There was no one there that was going to help her. There wasn't going to be a rescue. She was on her own. But she had been prepared for that moment.

She found herself in a crowded cantina that was filled with the scum of the pirate world. Most of the faces she didn't know back then; others she recognised from wanted posters or her dealings with the underworld. They were mostly gone by now. Captured or killed. They didn't matter now though. She wasn't here for the sea of scared and mutilated faces. She was there for… well she wasn't entirely sure why she was there.

"You want to tell me why we're in one of the armpit of the galaxy?" she snorted as she looked around the crowded room.

"You tell me. Your mind is the one that brought us here," he moved through the people as if they were shadows.

That's what they were though. They were merely shadows. Shadows that lived in her mind. Dark shadows. It was from a time that she more or less tried to forget. She had always had anger problems; especially when she was younger… like that night. She had mellowed since then, but still got fiery when her temper flared. It was in her blood. It was part of who she was.

"So you have a temper," he must have been reading her thoughts.

"Yup…," she weaved her way through the crowd, "Always have. I'll learned to be a bit more patient, but it comes out with… certain situations."

"Like this night at the Sabacc table," he motioned towards a table that was in the back of the cantina.

Several Weequay sat around the table with a well worn Sabacc deck. They were growling and smirking at each deal. They had no tact when it came to hiding their hands. Credits were shifting from one Weequay to another as hands were dealt and tossed. Each accusing each other of treachery and cheating. They all were. Cheating.

She watched and listened as the game continued. She was waiting. Waiting for that moment that was going to happen. It would happen soon. She scanned the crowd; looking for a familiar face.

"You were so young then," he came up next to her, "How old were you?"

She didn't mind answering, "I was about nineteen… twenty… just barely an adult. First time on my own. No crew. No back-up. No assurances that I would walk out alive. I went straight into the Rancor's throat and I didn't care," she saw who she was looking for, "I was an idiot… I still am an idiot…," she admitted.

There was a moment on silence as a figure slid into an empty chair at the Sabacc table. They didn't say a word as they pulled a satchel and placed it on table in front of the arguing Weequay. A few credits fell out as it fell over. The eyes of the Weequay went wide at the greedy thoughts of all the credits that could possibly in in the satchel.

"What's you got there stranger?" one of the Weequay asked the silent stranger, "This is a closed game."

"I don't mean to be rude, but I've been looking for a good game all night," the stranger spoke in a hushed tone through the cloth that covered a majority of their face, "I have a pouch full of credits that are weighing me down tonight. Do you think y'all can help me?"

The Weequay looked to one another with sinister smiles.

"Of course stranger," one of them spoke up, "We'll gladly let you in on our game. We play pretty high stakes just so you know."

"I was just about to say the same thing," the stranger gave a low laugh.

This noticeably unsettled the Weequay, but the thought of all the credits in the stranger's satchel dispel any doubts and fears that bubbled up in their minds. The cards were soon dealt and hands play out. Hand after hand was dealt. Credit after credit was bet. Credit after credit was lost.

"You didn't cheat. Not one time," this seemed to surprise him, "You don't seem to mind using dirty tactics when fighting."

"Two different things," she defended her ways, "In a fight, you can fight dirty… need to survive, but still maintain a code. In cards," she bent over the table to see the hands, "there's no honor in cheating. Besides," she realized that the cards were blank in the Weequay's hands, "I hate card cheats."

"How did you win so much? You didn't even lose one hand. You threw away every hand that you had and you still managed to win," he asked.

"Luck. I've always been lucky," she answered in a flat tone as she watched the game progress, "I am lucky… the card game wasn't where my luck came in… it was what happened after…," she prepared herself for what was about to happen.

The Weequay had started to snarl and growl at the stranger who hadn't lost a hand during the entire game. They whispered to one another as they laid down their hands. The stranger held their cards in their hand, not lowering as they had.

They stood up and began to shout at the stranger.

"You're cheating!" one of them pulled out their blaster pistol.

"Nope…," the stranger answered calmly, "I don't have to cheat… the universe knows I'm in the right so it is rewarding me."

"What? What does the universe have to do with it?" he growled back.

"It knows that I came here for something… something that needs to be made right… something that demands blood…," the stranger raised their eyes to the group.

They were golden in color and filled with hate.

Before their fingers could pull the trigger, the Weequay lay dead on the Sabacc table. A still smoking hole in between their eyes. The stranger holstered their pistol as they picked up the satchel of credits. They didn't say a word as they walked through the cantina. Not a single word was uttered as the stranger walked out.

The bodies of the pirates remained at the table, but their credits soon disappeared.

"... I guess… I'm a murdered… no… I am an avenger..."

"I am rather curious to why you killed those pirates," he asked.

She watched herself walk out of the cantina, "They took blood from me… I took it back…," she signed.

"So far gone from you Sith heritage, but still you are so deeply rooted in it," he mused.

She snorted, "Guess I just have anger blood," she turned back to him as the scene faded, "You want to know why I killed them? It's rather simple. Those pirates killed my mentor...," she was starting to wish she still had her bottle of whiskey, "They boarded my mentor's ship…," she hated this memories, "to get revenge on him for stealing their Twi'lek slaves."

"I didn't think you tolerated slavery," he raised his brow.

"I don't and neither did my mentor… Captain Hero'dia Nova…," that was a name that she hadn't uttered in a long time, "He was saving them from the slave pits that those pirates ran. Captain Nova was responding to a job offer… maybe he felt something… maybe that's why he left me back at port… I'll never know. It was a trap… The pirates overtook his ship… that group… the ones I shot boarded his ship and killed him. His body was found floating in space by a fellow Captain… I buried with my own two hands," she clenched her fist.

"How old were you when he died?" he asked as the scene faded.

"Fifteen…," she answered in a distant tone, "He was like a father to me. My only father…"

"Who…?" he started to ask.

"Nope! NOPE! We are not going there tonight!" she interrupted him, "That is one thing I'm not going to talk about!" she headed off into the darkness, "Let me out of here," she realized that she couldn't go anywhere.

"We are where your mind what's to be," he explained, "I have merely followed you. You are the one that wants to be in the dark."

"You're the only one in the dark," she growled.

"Really? I am the Only dark thing here? You should look inward. So aggressive," he observed, "Are you agitated by what lies in you mind? In your heart? Are you afraid of what you really are?"

"I'M NOT AFRAID!" she screamed at him, "but I am pissed!"

"Why so angry?" he wanted to continue in that vein.

"You damn well know why I'm angry," she shouted as she pointed at him, "I want out! I want out of this! I want my bottle of whiskey!"

She threw her hands down and the sound of shattering bottle rang through the silence that had filled the air. She growled and sweared as she watched the last of the whiskey drip through the grate.

"Damn it…," the final curse under her breath.

"You do have a nasty temper," he looked down at the shattered glass.

"Don't start with me," she growled as she flung herself down into a seat.

"I believe that we have been at it for some time now," he stood in front of her, "Why stop now?"

"Because I don't want to. I just want to forget the night. I want to forget about the role that's been forced on me. I want to forget about my life. And most of all," she glared up at him, "forget about you."

"What you want," he smiled, "and what happens are two completely different things. Sometimes what you don't want is exactly what you need," he reached out and placed his hand on her forehead.

She wanted to recoil from him, but the liquor had made her reactions slow. His hand was so cold and chilled her to her core. Her whole body froze. It felt like the breath in her lungs was frozen in place. She was starting to choke. The world was fading into an inky blackness that looked like it was going to consume her whole. She desperately wanted to take a breath or even exhale, but the air remained frozen around and inside of her. She felt like she would pass out if the air didn't start moving soon. It suddenly rushed towards her and hit her like a durasteel wall.

She landed on all fours as pain shot through her body. Her face was sore. Her lungs were begging for air. Hitting her chest as hard as she could stand, she forced her lungs to inhale. Air finally filled them as she coughed and sputtered. It almost hurt... it did hurt… But her lungs filled with air and they were grateful for it. It was a thick and moist air that filled her senses. It was heavy and laid upon her like a wet blanket. It smelled vaguely of plastisteel and damp earth. She knew that smell. It had been some time since she had smelled it, but it was all to familiar.

"Not here… any place but here…," she growled as she slammed her first on the wet pavement.

"Pain… mental and physical shapes who we are," his voice hung in the air.

"Why… why are you doing this?" she continued to growled.

"I told you, your mind wants to go to this place… it wants to go to this event," he appeared over her, "What happened here that makes you so angry? What happened on this platform has scarred you so deeply?"

She couldn't bare to look. It was something that she had pushed to the farthest parts of her mind. Something that she had thought of in years. She just couldn't bare it. It was… to much…

"You'll have to face it some time…," he bent down and forcibly turned her head to the frozen scene, "It it part of you… it is what has started you down the path you now follow. Do not hide from it… embrace it… and accept it for what it is…"

She couldn't look away. It was like watching a starship crash. One couldn't help but stare in horror.

A tall figure in black stood over a pair cowering in his shadow. There was no moment. There was no sound. Just the scene of the figures.

"What happened that night? What did he do? What did she try to do?" he whispered into her ear.

She felt compelled to answer. The words left her mouth, but she only wanted to remain silent.

"... he… he killed her…," she started to choke out, "... she… she tried to save me…"

"Save you from what?" he wanted to know.

"... from my father killing me…," she could feel hot tears running down her face.

Slowing the figures started to move. A frantic voice slowly filled her ears. A voice desperate to save a life.

"Please my Lord! Please! She's just a child! You took one child from me! Let me have her… let me keep my daughter… I gave you a son… a son that is strong in the force like you… let me have this one… let me keep her…"

The figure in black didn't say a word. He reached to his side and pulled a dull grey cylinder out. He placed his thumb over a button. It came alive with hideous red glow. It illuminated the scene. Casting it's ghastly light, the face of the woman appeared. It was filled with fear and tears as she continued to beg. She held a small body close to her as tightly as she could. The figure in black… his face now showed… it was completely emotionless.

"You look so much like him," he mocked her.

She couldn't say anything, but watch what was about to happen.

"No… please no!" the woman scrambled to her feet.

There was nothing but fear and anguish on her face as she looked for a place to run to. There was no place to go though. They were high off the ground on a landing pad. She had done everything she could to get up there. She had risked so much for her desperate attempt. She thought she had succeeded, but he was waited for her. He knew what she had been planning. He knew what she was trying to do. He couldn't allow her to escape. She and her useless child was a stain on his name. She had given what he needed and there was nothing left to give.

There was only to take… take her life… take the life of the child…

Without a sign of remorse or utterance of an apology. Without a tear… without emotion… he raised his lightsaber and plunged it through the woman's back. It pierced through and just missed the child's head. The woman's face twisted in pain. She teetered on the edge of the platform. The jungle just below. She looked down at the child in her arms and smiled. Tipping forward, she fell from the high place down in the darkness of the thick canopy. They disappeared from sight. There was no sound; only the slight hum of energy coming from the still lit lightsaber.

The scene fade and everything fell silent.

"She did everything to save you...," he broke the silence, "A slave woman that had caught a Dark Lord's eyes… she didn't choose what happened to her… but she chose to save you… the only thing she got to choose in her short life," his voice started to hiss in her ears, "She lived so selfishly… you don't really live up to her example… do you?"

She could feel herself lowering to the ground. The weight of everything she had just witnessed was starting to weigh heavy on her. She remembered hearing, seeing and feeling her mother's tears. She remembered her mother trying to comfort her as she had frantically searched for a way to save them both from her father's wrath. They both knew it was hopeless, but they had to believe that there was some way out. She remembered the fear she felt as she watched her father ignited his weapon. She remembered the shear terror as she watched the crimson blade of energy shot through her mother. How numb she became as she and her mother fell from the dizzying height. It all just hit her at once. Everything coming down on her; pushing her further down into a place that she hadn't been in a long time.

Her body grew numb along with all of her senses. There was nothing around her… there seemed to be nothing in her… there was only the deep dark feelings that she usually hid behind a smirk and a quick quip or joke. The feeling of hopelessness washing over her.

"What's this? Not quite feeling like yourself?" he mocked her as everything started to fade, "You may have been strong enough crawl out of that jungle and whisk yourself away from Dromund Kaas, but you never recovered. Did you? You've carried it with you like a stench that preminates from your soul. That never can truly be washed away. Not even as you play hero. For all your pretending," he laughed, "you're still that scared little child that let her mother die. I can see into your thoughts… you wanted to die that night… the moment you saw your mother impaled by you father. You wished that you had perished with her."

It was true… the moment she watched the red blade pierce through her mother… she wished she was dead… her mother was the only thing good in her life…

She could feel herself sinking… sinking into the darkness that was consuming her… fading into the despair that was enveloping her… all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and forget about everything… everyone… her…

"That's right… there's no holding back these feelings," his voice echoed in her head, "There's only so long your false bravado and charismatic smile would hide the pain you have inside. It's been eating at you all your life. What is there left for you to live for? Was there any reason for you to continue?"

His words rang so true. What was there left to fight for? Her crew was scattered. All she seem to do is run. People looking to her for answers she didn't have. So many things to worry about. What was the point in going on? She couldn't be the Commander of an Alliance. She was just some freighter Captain that got mixed up in some seriously bad business. Business that earned the ire of an undying emperor. An undying emperor… that… is…

"You really going to let him win kid?" a distance voice fill her mind.

She knew that voice. It had been so long since she had heard it, but there was no mistaking it.

"Captain…? Captain Nova…?" she asked into the darkness.

"Come on now," his slender figure started to form, "We're in private. You don't have to call me Captain."

"My mind… ain't so private these days," she managed to laugh.

"I noticed," he chuckled back.

It was nice to see his face again. Not like when he was brought back from the cold void of space, but his warm, worn smiling face. A human male that has seen more in one lifetime than anyone should. It wasn't all bad… but he really appreciated the good things. His gentle pale blue always smiled. The wrinkles around his eyes gave away his age, but he never acted it… unless he was imparting some wisdom. He was a lanky fellow with dark skin and close cut greying hair. He didn't look like much and most underestimated him… their mistake. A few scars from a misspent youth lined his face and ran down to his neck. Not that he really ever straightened out.

"I'm going to ask you again. You really gonna let him win?" he snorted as he shot a smirk down at her.

"I'm not letting him win…," she let out a heavy sight as she tried to sit up, "I'm just taken a break."

He put out his hand, "Nothing wrong with getting a little help."

She gladly took it and was able to sit up. She still felt so heavy… from everything she had seen… from everything that had been placed on her…, but she could at least sit up to talk with her mentor.

"You've got a lot of responsibilities these days… challenges too," he seemed to lean against an invisible wall, "Not that you were one to run from a challenge… even when you kept getting lumps for your effort."

"This is a bit different this time…," she admitted as she brought her legs up to her chest and hugged them close, "I think I'm in over my head… definitely to much in my head… but I can't do anything about that right now," she sighed, "I'm supposed to be in charge… lead… an alliance against an mad emperor that wants me and everyone I know dead… not to mention the undying emperor in my head. I… I don't know what to do… I'm not a leader… I'm not the Commander everyone wants… needs me to be… I… I can't do this," she could feel herself sinking from the growing weight on her shoulders.

"You've never been the type to be what everyone wants you to be," he snorted, "You've always been just you. It's what I've… everyone… has always like about you. You never held back from speaking your mind and letting others know when their wrong… though… you'd look the other way when they were doing the wrong thing for the right things…"

"Wonder where I learned that from?" she managed to smuggly smirk up at him.

"I taught you all the wrongs…," he returned the smirk.

"... for all the right reasons…," she forced a laugh.

"Isn't that why you're here?" he asked as he sat down next to her, "Isn't that why you chose to work with the Republic? Isn't that why you answered Theron Shan's call and continued to help him and Lana with the whole Revanite Conspiracy? I know that you say that you're just pretending to be a hero just to profit, but we both know that's a lie," he gave her a wink, "A person just pretending wouldn't have done a quarter of what you've and your crew have done."

"My crew…," there was another sore subject for her.

Rumors here and there. Whispers in the wind. That's all they were though; rumors and whispers. They lead to nothing. False hopes and broken dreams. She hoped and prayed that they were safe and doing well. She hoped that they were doing fine without her. She hoped that they were carrying on without her.

… she hoped that they could forgive her for missing for five years…

"It's always hard to leave behind your crew to go on a solo mission," he seemed to read her dark thoughts swirling about her mind, "Especially when you're not sure if you're coming back… you know that there was nothing you could have done to save me, right? I knew what was coming. I knew I wasn't walking away that time. I accepted that. I came to peace with that. Do you know why?"

She could only shrug her shoulders.

"Because I knew my crew… my adopted daughter was safe," he hugged her, "I knew if I went out there and meet my fate, no one else had to suffer. You did the same… when you told your crew to leave them behind… when you said you would be right behind… you knew there was little chance that you were going to walk away… You did it for the same reason I didn't let you and the crew come with me that day… I have no regrets with what happened. I'm proud of you. I'm glad for the person you turned out to be."

"But I murdered those Weequay slavers just for a moment of feeling like I did something to make up for not saving you," she admitted to herself and him, "I could've just let it go… but… but my temper… my blood… I can't let go…"

"And that is a strength," he huffed at her, "We weren't meant to be saints. That's a Jedi's job. We do what is wrong to make things right. It has nothing to do with what you are," he poked her in the forehead, "It has all to do with who you are. Sure people see you red skin and bone spurs, but they will know that you are someone… someone not to mess with… someone that doesn't give up… You've always had the deck stacked against you, but you never once let that hinder you. The odds have been worst and you've seen it through. That son up a hutt up there," he looked up, "Doesn't know who he's dealing with. Show him what you do to people that take something from you."

She smiled. She knew what he was talking about. It was a time in her life where she felt both satisfaction and shame. Satisfaction for revenge well deserved. Shame for giving into to such a dark desire. It had to be done. It was done and said.

"Here kiddo," a shot of whiskey materialized in his hand, "I never got to have a drink with you while I was around," he laugh, "Let's enjoy one now."

She smirked as she took the glass. Another took its place and he took hold of it.

"Bottoms up," he cheered.

They both gulped it down with one swallow. With a cough and a wipe of their lips, they looked to one another with a smile.

"Remember," he started to fade, "A shot of whiskey is not a shot of courage…"

"It just helps bring it out," she finished her mentor's words.

That's all she needed. She wasn't going to let herself fade into the darkness of her mind. It wasn't who she was. It was only a part of her. Just one part of her.

"Thanks pops," she watched as the darkness around her soften and turn more into shades of grey.

"I wasn't expecting to see for a little while more," his was obviously a little annoyed by her appearance.

"What can I say? You knock me down, I'll get back up," she smirked, "Then I'll knock you out."

"What did I say about false bravado? It can't protect you from what's inside," he sighed.

"Ha… I don't need protection… but you do…," she laughed.

"What…?" he noticed that the greyness forming into a scene.

"You don't know what I'm capable of," she growled.

"I know what you're capable," he was forced to say, "You're nothing more than a stain on my legacy. Your mother nothing more than a diversion. A moment of weakness that at least gave me an heir. You…," he laughed, "were just the leftovers… nothing in comparison to your brother… a shame you were born with red marks and not him… a shame…"

"The red marks… yeah… I may not feel the Force… but you're going to feel mine," she drew a blaster, "You're going to regret not making sure I wasn't dead all those years ago."

"I doubt it," he pulled out his lightsaber.

Everything seemed to move at a quick pace. Blaster bolts flew through the air. The plasma sword cut through empty spaces. Neither of them could seem to land a hit. Close and glancing blows at best. There didn't seem to be definite winner. He was rather surprised that she could keep up with a dark lord of the Sith. she seemed like a completely different person.

She seemed to have… direction…

She got in close and elbowed him in the ribs. He felt a sharp pain slicing through skin and bone. He looked down to see that a river of blood was flowing from a wound. He was suddenly kick back and lightsaber appeared at his throat.

"You shouldn't have killed my mother," she hissed as she raised the blade and plunged into his heart.

He coughed and his face twisted in pain as she pushed the blade further and further into him. He was soon pinned the ground; unable to speak; unable to move. Her left elbow was bloody from the wound she had inflicted. So clever to use the sharp bone protrusion to stab him where the armor was then. He can feel a piece of it still inside of him. He watched as she pushed herself off the floor. Her golden eyes stared down at him. They were neither filled with hate or satisfaction. They were merely staring; not sure what to feel maybe.

"Ha…," he managed to cough out a laugh, "you are far more Sith than I could imagine… maybe i shouldn't have been so hasty…"

He had no choice but to say those words. He was just an actor in this memory. He just had to play along.

"Revenge ain't just a Sith's game," she growled, "It belongs to anyone that feels they've been wronged. You wronged me… this is the result."

"Ha! Such a child… a marvelous child… you have more of me in you than I ever could have thought…," he felt his life slipping away.

The scene faded back in a grey shroud. She continued to stand over him. He was unable to move.

Bending down next to him, a smile formed on her face, "Now I know that didn't kill you, but I'm hoping that it will shut you up for the night. I also hope that you now understand who and what I'm," she snorted, "You want to know what I am… I am a smuggling freighter Captain. I am the daughter of a Sith Lord and a Slave. I am the adoptive daughter of a smuggler. I am someone that will take blood for blood. I am a killer. I am avenger. I am who I am. My name," she should up as everything started to return to the ship's interior, "is Captain Jarazi'Dah Nova. And I will be the End of You."

Everything was the way it should be. Other than the shattered bottle on the floor. That wasn't too of an uncommon occurrence though.

She looked around and waited and listened. Nothing but the hum of the life support could be heard. For once she didn't have a voice in the back of her head constantly. It was still and quiet. For once.

"And stay quiet," she warned him if he was listening.

She slumped down into the closest seat. There was still more liquor to drink, but she didn't need it anymore. There was nothing that she wanted to drink away. Valkorion was temporarily indisposed at the moment. Memories, good and bad, were still playing inside her head, but that wasn't so bad. They made her who she was. The people. The events. Everything that made her who she was.

She wasn't ashamed of that.

Looking to her left, she saw that there was still a bottle of rum sitting out. Picking it up, she looked at it thoughtfully. There was no point in drinking. She was feeling the drunkenness already starting to take hold.

"For family and friend lost…," she tipped the bottle over and let the liquor flow, "To family and friends that have yet to be… found…," she could feel a drunken stupor coming on, "One day… one way… I'll see you all again…"


End file.
